Little Wolf Part 6

"There, I'm always sure to do the very thing I say I will not do," she said to herself half pettishly, as she opened her piano with a jerk, and ran her fingers carelessly, over the keys, one fine October day.

Very soon she was quite absorbed, in practicing a difficult piece of music, which her lover had, heretofore, recommended in vain.

"O, Miss DeWolf, there's a squaw here that wants to see you," said Sorrel Top, bursting suddenly into the room.

"O, she's begging, no doubt. Give her what she wants, Sorrel Top, I'm engaged just now," and Little Wolf went on with her music.

"There, I told you so. I knowed Miss DeWolf wouldn't have nothing to do with squaws, or injins, nor nothing else that's low," exclaimed Sorrel Top, loud enough to be heard by her young mistress, who always made it a point to do the very thing it was expected she would not do.

The dumpy little copper-colored creature, enveloped in an Indian blanket, before whom Sorrel Top had drawn herself up with a triumphant toss of the head, was just making a second plea, when Little Wolf made her appearance.

"I want to hear music, do tell the lady I want to hear music," she said in very good English.

"O, if that's what you want, come this way," said Little Wolf, leading on to the parlor.

The Indian followed, pattering along in her soft moccasins, leaving Sorrel Top quite crest fallen.

"Now here is where the music comes from," said Little Wolf, placing her hand upon the instrument, and following her piece of information with a lively air.

"Now, how do you like that?"

"It is very pretty; may I try to make music?"

"Certainly," said Little Wolf, vacating her seat with infinite condescention. The maiden drew her blanket more closely around her, and made it fast. Her exceedingly small and finely formed hands were now at liberty, and, instead of the discordant notes which her auditor fully expected, a flood of harmonious sounds burst upon her ear.

"What does this mean?" exclaimed Little Wolf in utter astonishment, when the strains had ceased.

The performer bent upon her a long searching look, and enquired, "Are you Miss De Wolf?"

"I am."

The strange visitor immediately rose and approached the door.

"There! stop; who are you?" demanded Little Wolf, vehemently.

"Hus.h.!.+ I was going to bolt the door," and she deliberately turned the key in the lock. "I'm your friend, young lady, and I'm come to warn you of impending danger."

Little Wolf slightly paled, but she stood firm awaiting further developments.

"Too much time has been wasted already," she began, "b.l.o.o.d.y Jim is here, at Chimney Rock, waiting for the first favorable moment to kidnap you, and murder your servants, and set fire to your home. He is now more daring and reckless than ever. Three times you have thwarted him, and he still carries the scars he has received at your hands.

This is the day, and, for ought I know, the very hour, that he designs to fall upon you. It was to be when your father was helplessly intoxicated, and yourself entirely off your guard. I think he has two or three accomplices living in this place. I love b.l.o.o.d.y Jim, steeped in crime as he is, and I beg of you, if it shall be possible for you to save yourself without taking his life, you will do so. I have now done all I can for you; good bye."

"There, you shall not go," exclaimed Little Wolf, springing towards her, "you must stay and a.s.sist me."

"I can do nothing more for you, Miss De Wolf, indeed, I cannot. I have told you all I know. My journey has been exceedingly painful and perilous, and I am completely exhausted. If I am discovered, I must inevitably lose my life. I do not dread death, but if alive, and you should be captured, I might possibly render you some a.s.sistance. Now you must not detain me."

"Well, but who are you," persisted Little Wolf, "that you are able to give me all this information, and yet cannot give me any aid?"

"I can, in all probability, aid you more by going than by remaining,"

said the other hurriedly. "My skin is stained, my clothes are stuffed to give me this fleshy appearance, but you will recognize me if we meet again. My name is Antoinette Le Claire. Now I _must_ go. The good Lord help you," and she waddled off, in precise imitation of a fat old squaw.

"Now I must be brave," thought Little Wolf, pressing her hand on her brow, while she tried to think what plan to pursue.

Her first thought was for her father's safety, who was, as usual, at the brewery, where he had gone soon after dinner, and as he had not been there long, she hoped he was not, as yet, intoxicated.

Stepping to the door, she hailed daddy, who was busy storing away some vegetables in the cellar, for winter use. "See here, daddy, I want you to go down to the brewery as quick as you can, and tell father--well, tell him I'm sick, and want to see him right away."

"'Tween you and me, honey,"--

"O, go, this minute, daddy," and she shut the door in his face, and proceeded to the kitchen, where she found mammy quietly smoking her pipe in the corner.

"O, mammy, where is Sorrel Top?" said she.

"Sorrel Top, why she's picking grapes for that are jelly you wanted made. I'm going to help her when I git rested, and slick up a leetle."

"No, mammy, you must help me. b.l.o.o.d.y Jim is around here somewhere, and he's going to try to kill us all and burn the house. I've just sent daddy for father, and you had better call Sorrel Top. I'll get my pistols, and we'll secure the house."

"O, laws a mercy! how did you find it out, honey?"

"Wait 'till we are safe and I'll tell you."

"O, honey, did you tell daddy?"

"No."

"O, I'm awful glad, he'd be so fl.u.s.trated you know."

"Yes, I know; now don't you get fl.u.s.trated, and let it out quite yet, you had better tell Sorrel Top, though."

Sorrel Top was duly informed, and they all set to work, and had made what arrangements for their safety they could, when daddy returned.

"'Tween you and me, Honey, the Doctor can't come."

Little Wolf knew, by the expression on the old servant's face, why her father could not come, and she went up close to him, and whispered, "Is he very bad, daddy?"

"O yes, pet, 'tween you and me, he's dead drunk."

A s.h.i.+ver ran through the daughter at this intelligence, and she now felt strong suspicions that Hank Glutter was implicated in her enemy's plot, and the condition of her father indicated that the crisis was near at hand.

"Well, daddy, cannot you get him some way?" she enquired, after a moment's thought, "can't you get some of the men to help you?"

"There ain't n.o.body there but Hank Glutter."

"Well, won't he a.s.sist you?"

"Bless your heart, honey, no--he ordered me off when I was there just now, and said things it wouldn't do for you to hear, no how."

"If you should write him a little billet and ask him, may be he would," suggested mammy.